It's taken almost 18 months for "East-West" (Est-Ouest), director Regis Wargnier's latest effort, to reach British cinemas (it opened nationally in France in September 1999). In my opinion, though, it was worth the wait. A searing social and political drama set in the period immediately following the end of World War II, East West concentrates on Soviet emigree Alexei Golovin (Oleg Menshikov) and his French-born wife Marie (Sandrine Bonnaire), who return to his homeland in the Ukraine hoping for a better life for themselves and their young son, Seryozha. Upon arrival in Odessa, however, their dreams are shattered. Stalin's xenophobia has created a climate of fear and repression in the Soviet Union, and most of the returnees are executed as "imperialist spies" or sent to the gulag to rot. Because of his skills as a doctor, Alexei and his family are spared, and are allocated a tiny, squalid room in Kiev, from which Alexei practices his medicine. Both Alexei and Marie dream of returning to France, but the corrupt bureaucratic system and the strict restrictions on Soviet citizens continually thwart their efforts. However, as Alexei reluctantly begins to adapt to his new life, Marie sees in two acquaintances a possible means of escape: a young swimmer named Sacha (Sergei Bodrov Jr.), who falls in love with Marie, and a famous French stage actress (Catherine Deneuve), whose left-wing political leanings cause her to take a keen interest in Marie's plight. Wargnier's film is one that adopts a broad-scope, and screams "epic" through both its subject matter and visual imagery. French films released in the UK are often talky, intellectual creatures that tackle deep interpersonal relationships in small, intimate settings. The thing that elevates East West above this status is the way in which it opens up the spectrum of "cinema", maintaining the emotional sincerity, but presenting it in a more user-friendly manner. The grimy claustrophobia of the Golovin residence is counterbalanced by the majestic splendour of the lake where Sacha trains, and plots his escape with Marie, and the grey-blue hues used by DPH Laurent Dailland give much of the film a cold, austere feeling. It's also a telling to note some of the quiet, ironic observations in Wargnier's narrative: the fact that, despite their initial hostility, most of the residents in the Golovin's tenement turn out to speak French; the fact that Alexei works, not just in any old factory, but in a red flag factory; and the fact that, having fought so hard to escape to the West, Marie misses her moment of triumph crossing the border between Bulgaria and Greece by falling asleep in the back of a car. The performances, by Bonnaire and Menshikov especially, are first rate, accurately capturing the frustration and anger that people used to freedom and liberty would experience when caught up in such a situation. And then there's Patrick Doyle's Cesar-nominated music; a full-throated orchestral masterpiece that mixes hearty Slavic marches with beautiful piano rhapsodies and lush string themes. Doyle's work is presented high in the sound mix, giving the audience plenty of chance to hear his work, and several moments in the score stand out, notably during Babouchka's funeral, and in some of the more tender scenes between Sacha and Marie. The piano rhapsodies are used as a leitmotif for the sea, making bold and beautiful statements in the scenes where Sacha takes to the water: during his training sessions, during the Olympic trials, and during his daring bid for freedom as he swims through the icy depths of the Black Sea. The End Credits are also worth sitting through, as they feature all the score's themes, along with a poignant vocal performance by Ukrainian baritone Anatoly Fokanov.

Submitted by Kay